Maintenance
by Stephensmat
Summary: Tyrol reflects on his life, and relationship with Cally. Spoilers for Seasons 2 and 3, in particular Season 3 Episode A Day In The Life


**Maintenance.**

The airlock opens and sends us both out into space.

They're right. Your life does pass before your eyes.

But not my life Cally. Ours.

_"What if rough patches are all we have left?"_

Cally... Have I taught you nothing?

* * *

I remember when we met. I was with Sharon then. Just starting out with her, and then you came onto my deck crew. None of the others thought you'd make it. Who becomes a mechanic to put themselves through dentist school?

I remember when we started working together. You were frustrated with Boomer's raptor. You couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. I still remember what I said.

"Machines don't fail because they're broken; machines fail because they don't get proper maintenance. You just got to treat it right."

You looked at me, nervous. "I Guess." She held out her hand. "I'm Cally. It's my first day."

I shook it. "Galen Tyrol. I'm the Deck Chief."

You let go of my hand like it was on fire. Somehow, I felt like your big brother already.

* * *

We worked so great together Cally. It wasn't chemistry, it was symmetry. A well oiled machine working efficiently. A deck crew has to work well, especially in a time of war. And we worked together so very very well.

I was with Sharon, and nothing would ever stand in the way of that, not ever.

I knew you were sweet on me Cally. I was sweet on you too, but not like that, you weren't my girlfriend, you were my family, my kid sister. I had a kid sister once. Dad told me to make sure she was safe from wild dogs, strange men, and anyone who ever looked at her funny. A task I took very seriously.

When I found out what happened on the _Astral Queen_ I wanted to throw up. Zarek's guy actually tried to... gods I can't even think of it without wanting to murder someone...

Murder someone. Oh frak.

* * *

We're breathing vacuum and still I think about that moment when I felt Sharon die in my arms. And you were the one holding the weapon. The pure spite on your face when you pulled the trigger... was it hatred toward her because of what she was, or because of what she was putting me through?

* * *

It would have been so easy to hate you then Cally.

That's why I couldn't quite figure it out. I couldn't bring myself to go see you in the brig, couldn't figure out what to say when I found out you had gotten a slap on the wrist, couldn't think of anything to say when you got out.

It would have been so easy to hate you Cally, and i made up my mind that I would never forgive you ever, and the next thing I knew, I found myself in the Old Man's office begging him to let you go.

It took me a while to figure out why. I loved Sharon, and honestly didn't care that she had battery fluid in her veins. But the thing is, that I hated how devoted I was her. I hated that I was so in love with the enemy. I was weeping over the fact that I wasn't going to be allowed to marry a Cylon!?

But none of that changed how much I cared about Sharon.

That's why I went to bat for you Cally. Because when Sharon died, I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut, but when she closed her eyes and I realized it was over... I was relieved.

Then ten minutes later Sharon was back, with little to no recognition in her eyes, and her arm around Helo.

What the hell am I supposed to be feeling after THAT?!

* * *

Don't think I didn't notice the change in you Cally. When we were building the Blackbird... when we were drinking with the Pegasus crew... you suddenly got very protective of me. I hear some of the others were making jokes about me and Boomer. Don't think I didn't see your bruised knuckles and their black eyes. Don't think I didn't notice you bringing me news and making sure I ate regular. I never said anything because... I don't know. Part of me appreciated it, but most of me didn't care.

I kept focused on the work. I blocked out everything else. Even you. Unless you asked me a direct question, I didn't talk much. Unless you brought me food, I didn't eat much. Unless you twisted my arm, I didn't sleep much.

Which is why I was so ashamed when I hurt you. Not even awake yet and I keep hurting you.

I couldn't believe you would forgive me so fast. I took far longer to forgive you, and yet... somehow I knew you were serious. I didn't understand it, but I believed it. How could you care about me when I was so awful to you? How could you love me after I hurt you? Your jaw's wired shut and the first thing you're thinking is how I'm feeling.

I barely felt human. I threw myself into the work. The Blackbird, the Vipers... a man feeling dead as the Cylon he loved, trying to be a machine, who fixed other machines...

At a time when I was barely aware of being human, you cared about how I felt. At a time when I was convinced I was already dead, you were so... loyal.

And the thing is... I trusted you when you told me I would get better.

So I hugged you back, and in that moment, with Doc Cottle muttering curses about something in the background... there was peace. I had peace.

You stopped being my kid sister then Cally, you were my guardian angel.

* * *

But I knew things had changed between us. These awful things in awful times, these moments I was sure would cost me my friend and co-worker... and just the opposite happened. I was full of guilt and shame, while you poured out your heart out through broken teeth. You went out on such a limb that day. And even though I wasn't ready to meet you there yet… I didn't throw it back in your face.

I still wouldn't look you in the eye, but you refused to leave my side for months afterward, and I felt better, knowing you were there.

Silence. True silence at least. The roaring in my ears has faded as the vacuum boils my blood off, but all I can hear is the silence.

After the great exodus from the fleet down to New Caprica, there wasn't nearly as much to do on the deck, so I spent my time with you. It was nice.

When we took our leave together on New Caprica... Huh.

Now that I think about it, it must have seemed like nothing had changed for me. Those guys came over and offered to buy you a shot of the finest in beverages that send you blind, and damn near ripped them apart. Just like a big brother should. But I wasn't feeling like a big brother any more.

And yet it took me so long to tell you so. You remember that night? You were so fed up with me. I had run off the latest in men showing an interest in you and you were about ready to kill me.

"Look, you wanna look out for me that's fine, but I'm not a teenager!" You yelled fiercely, right in my face. "Somebody wants to buy me a drink it's none of your damn business."

"Yes it is!" I yelled back, just as fierce.

"How do you figure that?!" You yelled.

I couldn't think quite how to put it. So I didn't say anything. I leaned forward and kissed you gently instead.

That squeak that came out of your throat was the most adorable thing I'd ever heard.

I broke off the kiss in a sudden panic, seeing my own tombstone flash before my eyes. The Old Man doesn't give military honors to guys who get killed for kissing angry specialists. Not on Galactica.

I start stammering out apologies when you reach out, pull me back for another kiss. You gave me a kiss and I could feel the kindness, the compassion... these were things that I swore never to feel for myself again. I loved you so much for it.

I'm not the type for casual flings or one night stands Cally. It's simply not the way I was raised. But even if that wasn't the case, it couldn't just be a fling. Not with you. It couldn't be casual or meaningless. Not with you.

But... now that I think about it, we work well together as deckhands, and we work well together as husband and wife... but not nearly as well when we try to do both. It took me so long to work it out, because with so many people leaving the fleet, the only real work we had to do was converting an empty stateroom into a home, complete with head and nursery.

When the Old Man married us, I made myself a promise. I wanted a better life for you than what we had. I wanted a better life for Nicky than what we had.

That was what my dad wanted. He worked like a dog putting my sister and me through schools, making sure we knew right from wrong and smart from stupid. He was so proud when he found out I was made deck Chief on Galactica. It was something solid and important. Something that others relied on, something that I could do well.

But then the holocaust came and it stopped being a career, it became my life.

My dad came from nothing, and swore that I'd have a better life than he had. When I found out you were pregnant, when I found out it was a boy... I knew exactly how he felt. I love Galactica. It's where I met you. But I didn't want my son's first breath to be Cottle's cigarettes. I didn't want my son's first clothes to be a grease monkey's overalls, and I didn't want our baby's first steps to be on the hangar deck.

But then the Cylons found us. Occupied New Caprica. My son was born, with Centurions marching outside.

* * *

They were right. Your life does flash before your eyes. It's a cruel joke, because seeing it all play out in my mind now, I understand the problem. We're back on Galactica, working on the hangar deck, me and Cally, with Starbuck and Apollo screaming for their birds to be ready, and the Cylons chasing us as we March deeper into space... nothing is different Cally. Except us.

Machines don't fail because they're broken, machines fail because they don't get proper maintenance.

My eyes are squeezed shut against the cold of space, but somehow I see you there, right next to me. And for just one moment, looking at Cally... there is peace. I have peace...

* * *

_There must be some kind of way out of here, _

_Said the Joker to the thief_

_There's too much confusion,_

_I can't get no relief.._

* * *

It's so good to have you home at last. I took our son to see you, saw you in that hyperbaric chamber. Impossible not to think of you in a coffin. Impossible to shake that image. Our quarters aren't much better. A room on Galactica that you have to share with me and Nicky. But we have privacy, a head, a door that locks. Prosna would have said that's why you married me. 'Humble' would be putting it kindly.

I wanted blue sky above your head, dirt beneath your feet, and nothing but horizon around you. The air was cold and the ground was muddy... But I still wanted more than jet fumes for Nicky. For six months, even under the occupation, there was no smell of tylium in your hair and we apologized to no one for leaving this ship. Not even the Old Man.

Your hair is a mess, your eyes are bloodshot, your lips are cracked... gods you're so beautiful.

"_What if rough patches are all we have left?" _

Cally... Have I taught you nothing?

* * *

Nicky is asleep at last, and we get into bed. We're both tired but not that much. It's more emotional than physical exhaustion at this point. So we lie in bed together, holding hands, listening to each other breathe, working through the thoughts of the latest catastrophe to hit our lives.

"You were right you know." I tell her quietly. "Things are different. But Cally, the difference is us. See, ever since we got back I've been acting like nothing has changed."

Cally realizes I'm going to talk about this finally and looks terrified, but she nods.

"But Cally, nothing has changed. That's the problem. The circumstances only changed when we moved to New Caprica. I didn't want you to be my deckhand down there; I wanted you to be my wife. And you were. All that, with the Union... the resistance, you were my partner. But then the Cylons came and we had to come back to Galactica... everything went back to the way it was two years ago... except us Cally. I love you. I want you to be my wife, but we have to be able to work together now. We have to be able to work as well as we used to, back before we were married. A well oiled machine. Remember?"

Your throat is raw from the pressure chamber, and still the vacuum, so you don't want to speak. If you could, I wonder what you'd say...

"I love you Cally, but we have to have this, and we have to be able to work together too. There's nobody else who can do it like we can, and if we cant have it both ways then there's a problem, because we need to do our jobs as well as we used to."

You nod. You understand.

I put my arm around your waist. "We aren't losing each other Cally, we just have to get used to working as well as we used to, while being parents too. We just have to get the rhythm back, and learn how to make it work again. It's just a rough patch."

I feel you press yourself against me, your head settled under my chin. Your voice croaked out, raw and scratchy. "Machines don't... don't fail... because..." You start coughing and I put a finger over your lips.

I smile in relief. You remember. "Machines don't fail because they're broken, machines fail when they don't get proper maintenance."

You nod, close your eyes and curl into me tightly. I pull you as close as I can, and bury my face in your hair.

There hasn't been a machine we haven't been able to fix together yet. We just need a little more maintenance.

There's no smell of tylium fumes in your hair tonight.

I fall asleep with my arms around Cally, and for just that moment, there is peace.

* * *

_No reason to get excited  
The thief he kindly spoke  
There are many here among us  
Who feel that life is but a joke but uh  
But you and I we've been through that  
And this is not our fate  
So let us not talk falsely now  
The hour's getting late_

End_  
_


End file.
